Playing Peter Pan
by Peter James
Summary: He left a boy who had seen too much. He was held for twelve years in suspended animation. When he returned to me, he still hadn't grown up.


**Title: Playing Peter Pan**

**Category, Type: Angst, Harry Potter**

**Rating: PG for some language and mild dark themes.**

**Warnings: Mildly implied homosexuality. (You _know_ that Padfoot and Moony were more than friends! Read books:))**

**Summary: He left a boy who had seen too much. He was held for twelve years in suspended animation. When he returned to me, he still hadn't grown up. And that, as so many of his childish mistakes have been, was his downfall. He died laughing, just as I always knew he would.**

**Author's Note: This is an introspective to Sirius, which just randomly came into my mind. I was considering all the things that Sirius _is,_ and one that came to me is that even while he was in Azkaban, he never grew up. He still retained a boyish nature, even after all he had seen and endured. He was colder, sadder, and sometimes almost grave, true. But if you look at it from a certain angle, you can see that he still acts like he is Harry's age. Which, as we know, got him a) thrown into Azkaban for twelve years, and b) killed only two years later. This is also a companion piece to another one-shot I am almost finished with (an introspective to Harry) entitled 'Playing David', and the following 'Playing Mary' which will hopefully be up soon. **

**Random Note: Can you guess whose point of view this is from? ;)**

_**Part 1 of the 'Life Is A Stage' series**_

**Playing Peter Pan **

He changed so much, and yet some things remained the same forever. Untouchable, and deadly. A rose may wither and die, but its thorns remain intact to prick naïve fingers bent on innocent determination. He was a man of many aspects, all two-sided and to be judged by the viewer alone. He was a bundle of wood by a radiator, unknowing that he might burst into flame at any moment. He was wild and beautiful and utterly imperfect, and that is why I loved him in a completely hopeless way.

His lust for mischief could be charming, if you stood at a certain point to look. Or, it could be infuriating, if you shifted just a bit to the right. His loyalty could make you worship him, or it could cause you to damn him for being so intent on saving you. I am sure that a very lonely young boy has screamed into the silence his own fury that Sirius could not quell his dedication, as have I. His sharp tongue could make you laugh, or bring about the desire to slap him for his insolence. I have experienced both reactions, personally, and it _is_ gratifying and not at all confusing to feel both sides of the spectrum. That smile could make you cave and find yourself unable to deny him anything, or it could raise a defiant anger as you repeated your answer of 'no'. His impulsiveness... well, let us say that this has brought about six things in his lifetime. Three wonderful beginnings that many are truly grateful for, and three endings that almost (and ultimately, did) ruin his own and others lives.

One good impulse: To defy his family. Because of this moment-made decision, there _were_ Marauders, there _was_ a flash of happiness in a shy boy's life, Harry Potter _did_ have a Godfather to show him love, and we _had_ a good and powerful man to fight for the side of Light.

One bad impulse: To attempt to kill Severus Snape by way of an unknowing werewolf. This foolhardy blunder nearly cost James, Severus, and the young werewolf in question their lives.

One good impulse: To kiss one of his best friends. Because of this momentary abandonment of inhibitions, both Sirius Black and Remus Lupin learned what it was to love.

One bad impulse: To switch Secret Keepers. Because he lost faith in himself and decided abruptly to have his position changed, James and Lily Potter were murdered, Peter Pettigrew escaped for many years, Sirius went to Azkaban, Remus lost everyone he loved in one night, and Harry grew up unloved and mistreated.

One good impulse: To break out of Azkaban. Though his chances were poor and even his past friends believed him an enemy, he knew instantly upon seeing Peter (aka Scabbers) in a newspaper article that he must escape. His reward? Some amount of freedom, long-craved forgiveness, and reunion with his remaining loved ones.

The final impulse... a very bad one: He could have stayed in Grimmauld Place while the Order rescued Harry. He could have lived, to continue to bring comfort to those that loved him so deeply. But he didn't. His god-damned loyalty reared its controversial head once more, and in a rash movement he had charged into the battle. It cost him his life, and pieces of several other people's hearts.

His impulsiveness was one of many attributes that was to be both loved and hated, just as Sirius himself was. It was easy for some to hate him, and impossible for others not to love him.

In essence, he was still a child.

During the First War, he never quite lost that gleam of mischief. The naughty actions carried out on his days off both aggravated and amused those around him, as they always had. He _was_ a child when he entered the defensive side of the War, only just seventeen no matter how many things he had already been witness to.

At age twenty-one, one could still find him fixing his motorbike at odd hours, or executing a prank to make the over-worked Order members smile, or carrying on (reminiscent of a lovesick schoolboy) while his beloved blushed like a rose-colored beacon and pretended to have gone deaf and blind. One could always expect to be pounced upon by a large black pup when you entered a room, and licked if he liked you. Even in the days of the worst strain, when everyone appeared exhausted and miserable, he could find some action or word to draw back the curtains of calamity with help from his fellow Marauders.

He should have asked Remus to marry him. Sirius might have, had he not been so skittish about that sort of thing. One can be any age and be completely in love, he once said, but you must be an adult to wed. It is a wonder that they loved one another so much, one being an adult when he was but a child and the other the complete opposite. Perhaps... perhaps if he had proposed, there would have been less tension and more a sense of peace between them. But no, Sirius didn't want to grow up. He had tried it once, and found being a man to be unsatisfactory. He wanted to remain a boy in the guise of an adult, planted firmly in his idiotic days of teenagehood. They say it is the secret wish of all men to play the pat of Peter Pan. To be eternally young, and heartless enough to fly.

Sirius was all heart. His blood was emotion and his skin thin plastic holding the burst of fire and faerie-dust inside. He could be quite serious, grave, even cold, but never far from a grin. Pouting, laughing, glaring, screaming. Childish grudges and ever-blooming love. He was discontent with standing still, and stubbornly opposed to resting.

For all his astonishing intelligence, he didn't understand. He could not fully accept that he had been in suspended animation while cornered in Azkaban. While he had been leeched of joy by the cold stone walls and Dementors pacing outside his cell, his nature never changed. It took some time after his escape to warm his cold bones, but there lay the faerie dust just ready to lift him again. Emerging from his prison, he could not understand why the world had gone on without him. Remus had grown up and grown old. Sad, alone, and disillusioned. Harry needed him in ways that he was not entirely prepared for. The child needed a father, while Sirius still felt little more then seventeen.

And yet, he was as infectious as ever. He brought life back into Remus, and comfort to Harry. He gave what he could, in the only way that he knew how. He did not know how to change himself, only how to change those around him. A positive version of Sauron's power in 'The Lord Of The Rings'.

Eventually, even Harry began to surpass him in maturity. Again, Sirius didn't understand. Like a child asked a question to which he has an incorrect answer that he fully believes in, he did not try to change. He did not want to. He continued to live to have fun, shedding adulthood like a dog shakes away water, growling when those around him called him a fool.

'I will not grow up. You cannot make me!' his eyes seemed to say to me each time I pleaded for him to consider his actions before doing them. Silly boy, Peter Pan. Silly boy.

Stealer of kisses, making impressionable girls at windows love him while the adults were his foes, laughing at everything, and leaping into danger just to feel the rush. My Peter Pan.

Sirius Black, the boy who would never grow up, is now truly a Lost Boy. Gone forever through a mysterious Veil, far too early and not a second too soon. He would have become miserable eventually, had he lived. Miserable, because he could never grow up.

And he died laughing, just as I always knew he would.


End file.
